


In which Bang wastes a good story

by Overlord_Bethany



Series: unreliable narrators [4]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Mid-Canon, i had to do this, my cat deleted my tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 23:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13623636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: People should really listen more, y'know?





	In which Bang wastes a good story

Squealy leaned on the aft gunwale, wearing that dour stomach-achy expression of a person pining for a lost lover. Probably the Heterodyne girl. Possibly not. Either way, he was useless if his head wasn’t fixed on the task at hand. Bangladesh DuPree put on her best swagger. 

“Prince Gloomypants!” Careful to avoid his wounds, she gave him a friendly punch. “Pouting causes airsickness. Everyone knows that.”

“I thought I was Squealy.”

DuPree was quite sure he didn’t care for the name she had given him. Not that it would dissuade her, but still. “Not when you make that face. Cheer up or you’ll vomit all over the deck and down the sides.”

“It couldn’t make the smell worse,” Squealy said, the poor innocent. Little he knew. 

DuPree tried to explain to him the error of his thinking, but he disengaged from the conversation almost at once. Undeterred, DuPree told him the thrilling tale of that time in Paris when Gil had consumed four bottles of absinthe, lost his homework, and then proceeded to sulk about the homework while pursuing rogue electrosphere technicians in a light airskiff. She was just getting to the good part, the part involving the absurd hats, when she noticed that Squealy’s expression had relaxed. No, he still wasn’t listening to her frankly terrific story, but something had eased his mind. 

“That’s better!” DuPree interrupted herself to say. “That’s the face of a person who gets things done!” A person focused and ready to help Gil. She gave him another careful punch. He didn’t wobble or wince or anything. 

She took a breath to continue her thrilling tale, but Squealy said, “A person who gets things done gets adequate rest,” like an absolute dullard. “I’m going back to sleep.” 

DuPree rolled her eyes behind his back as he walked away, but then he paused, half-turning, and something in his expression made her frown. 

“DuPree?” His voice came softly, as though speaking too loudly might break his words. 

“Yeah, Squealy?” she said, trying to work out what might make him look like a hungry urchin grabbing a cookie and sound like a lost man witnessing a miracle. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t natural. This alliance was probably a terrible idea. 

“Thanks.”

Oho, was that all? His fleeting smile made her lip curl in distrust, but he was definitely sincere. “For what?” she called after him, but he had already disappeared below. For not stabbing him? For punching with care? 

Bangladesh DuPree slouched over to lean on the gunwale, in the spot Squealy had just vacated. Thanks for what? Surely he couldn’t mean for taking care of Gil. If he did, that meant that he was much, much stupider than he looked. Any idiot could see how important Gil was to both of them. 

It didn’t really matter, she supposed, but that one word would bother the edges of her brain for some time to come.  _Thanks_. She wanted to smack it. Yeah, thanks for  _that_ , you tremendous pain, DuPree thought with a fond twist of her lips.


End file.
